


Matt Murdock’s Halfway House for Troubled Teenage Superheroes

by homework78



Series: Matt Murdock’s Halfway House for Troubled Teenage Superheroes [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, M/M, Matt Murdock is the most awkward mama duck, and he loves his kiddies a whole heck of a lot, more characters will be added to the characters tag as they arrive, the Matt/Foggy comes later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4288587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homework78/pseuds/homework78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt Murdock is the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He wages a one-man war against crime in his tiny New York neighborhood and likes it that way. He's territorial, grumpy, and prefers to avoid finding out whether or not he can play well with others.</p><p>But then he finds Spider-Man with a head wound, so he makes sure he's okay. And then he finds Kate Bishop with a war wound of her own so he has to make sure that she's okay. And then there's Wiccan. And Hulkling. And Ms. Marvel. And America Chavez. And--</p><p>You know, it would be easier to list all the kids that don't end up sleeping on his living room floor at some point. Suddenly Matt's the unofficial vigilante big brother to any teenaged superhero in and around New York.</p><p>Matt would like them all to stop following him now, please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Give a Spider a Lift Home (Then He'll Want to Text You Constantly and Rack Up So Many Charges On Your Data Plan)

He doesn’t mean to take Spider-Man home with him. It just kind of...happens. Firstly because Spider-Man is way out of his territory -- Matt is a little bit impressed that he’s managed to make it all the way out to Hell’s Kitchen considering it’s a school night. Secondly Spider-Man is, well, out on a school night when he’s clearly no older than sixteen, and it doesn’t feel right to shove him off towards home when blood is soaking through his mask like that.  
  
Thirdly, Matt feels responsible. It isn’t Spider-Man’s fault that Leap-Frog doesn’t have a sense of humor so he shouldn’t be punished for taking on what amounts to Matt’s out of control pet.  
  
He leaves Vinnie Patilio tied up for the cops to find. Matt feels extra spiteful because of the damage done to Spider-Man’s poor head and leaves Patilio in his stupid costume. That’ll make it up to Brett a little for having to carry the guy back to the station. ( _God_  he can’t believe this guy has a pseudonym like  _Leap-Frog_. At least Matt has some dignity about the whole thing.)  
  
Then Matt calls Claire, because what else can he do?  
  
“Hey. It’s me. Uh-- no, it’s not for me this time. I’ve got a...colleague? that needs attention. Yes, I’m being serious.” Matt frowns and uses his free hand to touch Spider-Man’s head. The mask is too, too wet and the teenager groans under Matt’s touch. “He’s bleeding from his head. It’ll take ten minutes and then --” Matt hits on inspiration. “-- and then I’ll take him home with me! We’ll be out of your business in no time!”  
  
This would eventually prove to be a mistake. Matt has no idea what kind of person Spider-Man is and he has no idea how this decision will launch several bombshells into his life later on.  
  
Right now he doesn’t care. It’s the right thing to do.  
  
He hauls Spider-Man a few streets down to Claire’s place. When Spider-Man wakes up to Claire stitching his head wound closed, Matt finds out that his name is Peter Parker, he’s fifteen years old, he’s still in high school, his favorite subjects are chemistry and physics, Claire is really pretty and  _wow my head hurts, can I take something for that?_  
  
“This is your fault,” Claire hisses out of the corner of her mouth.   
  
“No it isn’t!” Matt hisses back. Wait. It isn’t his fault, right? He’s not responsible for headstrong teenagers and their stupid, stupid ways. Spider-Man made headlines before Daredevil did anything bigger than beat up pickpockets.  
  
“I’m right here you know,” Peter says. “Do you mind if I throw up? I’m pretty sure I’m gonna throw up in a second. My head hurts, it really really hurts.”  
  
Matt is sheepish enough to promise that he’ll buy Claire a new rug. She accepts but only on the condition that he takes Peter home with him. As for himself, Peter feels thoroughly wretched about the whole thing, enough that he actually offers up his pittance of an allowance to help pay for that new rug. Matt promises to consider it and takes him back to the loft.  
  
It’s a strange night spent there. Matt gingerly lets Peter inside, listens to the muffled “holy shit!” when the billboard gets spotted. Peter promises that he doesn’t need the bed or the couch, and proves his point by climbing the wall and spinning a web for himself in the corner of the ceiling to sleep in. Matt realizes at some point that his mouth has fallen open in shock, and he shuts it with a snap.  
  
“Do you need to check my pulse or anything?” Peter asks.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Matt reassures him. “If anything happens to you, I’ll know.”  
  
“That’s not creepy at all Mr. Daredevil.”  
  
Matt scowls. “Go to sleep,” he says in what he hopes is an authoritative voice. “You have school in the morning.”  
  
“Yes, dad.”  
  
The night is a fitful one. Matt sleeps in starts and gaps while listening to Peter Parker’s heartbeat and breathing. Eventually, around six, he finally falls asleep, only for his alarm to wake him an hour later. Irate, he drags himself out of the bedroom, hacking and spitting in that way that always drove Elektra up the wall, and helps himself to the pot of coffee that mysteriously made itself before he woke completely.  
  
There’s a note beside it. Matt tugs off his gloves with his teeth and tries tracing the letters but the indents are faint, and he can catch a faint T and an S. He glares at nothing and resolves to take it to work with him.  
  
“Foggy!” He’s too loud and too grumpy but God forgive him, he’s running on only one hour of sleep and his adolescent charge disappeared before Matt could make sure he was okay. Matt shoves the note in Foggy’s face. “What does this say?”  
  
“Hi Matt. Good morning to you too. Lovely day we’re having, isn’t it? It’s doing wonders for your attitude.” Matt groans and waves the note again. “Okay, okay, give it here.”   
  
Foggy reads it. He reads it again.  
  
“Holy shit Matt, it -- it says -- ‘Hey pal, thanks for the lift, my head am doing think now good. Let’s do this again sometime --  _your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?!’”_  
  
“There was another line,” Matt insists. “I felt it.”  
  
“Yeah it’s -- it’s a phone number. Whoa, I think he just gave you permission to text him.”  
  
Matt frowns, trying to work out why Spider-Man would want to text him when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. This is when he remembers he left his phone on the counter to charge before suiting up last night.  
  
The phone buzzes again. And again. And again. Matt forces his numbing lips apart and says, “Oh, no, what have I done.”


	2. So Long As You Drink It Black (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate Bishop learns the pitfalls of trying to do a favor for a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some discussion of PTSD and a lot of (non explicit) discussion of puking. If that kind of thing bothers you then you might want to skip this one!

You found the armor on the shore at your father's house in Malibu. When you looked too close your head buzzed with static until the whole world slowed to a wretched crawl. That's why you didn't recognize it straight away. Just remembering your own name was difficult back in those days. But the colors still intrigued you. So you found the red wagon from your childhood, the one Mom used to pull you around in when you were little, and you hunted for more pieces up and down the shore.

Much, much later, you will sanitize this story for the sake of a younger audience sitting in a circle on Matt's living room floor. You will make a joke about Tony Stark needing to build himself a robot maid. You will tell them that everything started for you because of red and gold armor. Meeting Clint Barton becomes a hilarious anecdote in your superhero origin story instead of the four most embarrassing hours of your life. You gloss over three and a half months where you lived off of cornflakes because it was the only food you could keep down. You don't say anything about the nightmares.

You can't pretty up how you met Daredevil, though. Everyone knows that story.

 

\--

Kate Bishop heard of Hell's Kitchen years before Wilson Fisk made news. She tuned out her father when he went on a tear about the state of the New York City but she couldn't avoid exorbitant warnings about a dingy, dangerous neighborhood housing organized crime and violent maniacs. She never visited but assumed that her father's rantings about Hell's Kitchen was like everything else he said: pure bullshit.

_Fuck._

Kate gasped for breath and gagged against the sharp pain shooting through her ribcage. Her left leg shook violently any time she tried to put weight on it until she was convinced that it was broken. Blood ran into her right eye from a cut high up on her crown, blinding her. Her bow had become a sort-of cane to aid her desperate escape attempt -- for all the good it did for her to run down an open street flooded with light from the street lamps. There was no hope for secrecy when her pursuers were only half a block away and had her in their sights.

Behind her, men were shouting. They had guns. They wanted her head. They knew she was wounded and they were looking to finish her off.

Shit, shit, _shit_.

 _You try to do a favor for somebody,_ she thought, hobbling as fast as possible down the sidewalk. _And this is what you get. Spidey gets himself a concussion, he begs you check out the Sons of the Serpent for him, you go without calling in anyone for back up because you are a stupid arrogant idiot that is going to get yourself killed by a shitty knock-off of the KKK and all you have to show for it is--_

Kate reached the street corner and lunged left. Escape was impossible but maybe she could still find a hiding place. She flung herself against the first door she saw and twisted the knob. _Locked._

She dragged herself to the next one. _Locked._ The shouting behind her grew even louder, they were furious that they had lost sight of her, and Kate gritted her teeth ( _I will not scream I will not scream_ ) against the agony in her chest and leg and slid into the space between the two buildings and perhaps, yes, there was a fire escape for her to pull herself up onto--

Her arms shook as she pulled herself up, inch by agonizing inch. She had almost made it before pain lanced across her side like branching lightning and forced her to let go. The only upside was that she landed on her good leg before collapsing to the ground.

Maybe, she thought as she lay on the filthy concrete, it was time to reconsider her life goals. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. Did this ever happen to Clint?

Then Kate realized what a stupid question that was and looked around for other options. There were two dumpsters on either side of her; only one had an open lid. There was no time to think or retch: Kate dragged herself to it and heaved herself over the edge.

She landed face down in what she hoped was wet coffee grounds. As the white supremacists converged on her hiding spot, she struggled not to vomit. God, the smell was overpowering. She clamped her nose shut with one hand and muffled her breathing with the other, curling in on her injured side just a little. _Please leave,_ she thought, _please leave, please leave, I’m not here you fucking pricks,_ but they started arguing with each other instead, throwing around words like “your fault,” and “that fat bitch,” which, _ummm **rude**._

Kate could take it though. She could take anything -- almost anything -- if it meant she walked out of this alive.

Which would mean nothing if she alerted them to her presence by giving in to the gorge rising in her throat.

She squeezed her hands against her face as if they alone could block out the smell. The taste of bile flooded her mouth; her stomach bubbled. There were five men outside her dumpster and they kept shouting at each other. For a moment she wondered if she couldn’t keep the retching quiet and maybe they would be too angry to notice, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind her diaphragm jerked and she forced herself into a ball. Kate was so busy not spewing chunks that she almost missed the next stage of the argument.

“She’s gone,” Number 2 Guy With A Gun said. “We should pack it in. We can -- we can keep searching in the morning. When it’s light, you know?”

“Jesus Christ,” Number 4 Guy With A Gun replied. (Wait, shouldn’t blaspheming be against their shitty discount religion or something?) “We’re in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen and she _found Lance_. If we don’t put one in her ear, tonight, she’ll come back tomorrow or next week, except this time she’ll have all her freak friends ruining the party.”

Number 2 Guy went quiet. “She’s not who I’m worried about. Not anymore. You know the news that’s been coming out of here--”

“We’re not gonna meet him!” Number 3 Guy Without A Gun sounded agitated. Not as confident as he pretended. Why? “You have a better chance of winning the lottery than meeting him!”

“I don’t wanna find out if tonight’s scratch off is 666!”

“Quiet,” Number 5 Guy With A Gun rumbled. “Did you hear that?”

Number 2 let out a sob. Number 3 and Number 4 both cursed and 4 cocked his gun.

Number 1 Guy With A Gun moved closer to the dumpster.

Kate froze until her locked muscles shook with strain. She hadn’t made a sound. She was certain of it, her life depended on it. She hadn’t made a _sound_ \--

Clint and Tony would have tossed off a one liner. Natasha would ensure that they heard her scoff. Steve would have attacked in silence that transformed into a battlecry. This was something different.

Number 1 and Number 4 went down without a fight -- probably two neat, crushing blows to the backs of their heads. (Hopefully the Sons of the Serpent had a great healthcare plan that covered CAT scans.) Number 2 let out a watery wail before Kate heard the familiar _urk_ that meant a well-executed punch to the esophagus. Number 3 didn’t have a gun but Number 5 did and it went off six times before someone’s arm broke and then Number 3 shrieked while flying straight into the dumpster, making it shake and almost choking Kate on her own tongue. Number 5 didn’t go down without a fight and several more bones snapped before he let out a squeaky little “uh _hhhh_ h _h **h**_ h” and fell to the ground.

Someone was crying outside the dumpster but Kate couldn’t place who. After a few seconds of silence she cast her eye to the sky.

A man wearing a red helmet peered down at her. He was unshaven and had devil’s horns on his head. He didn’t look upset or angry or even out of breath. Instead he regarded her with cool interest, like a professor evaluating a new student. He reached out a hand to help her sit up; she took it.

“Hawkeye, I presume,” he said.

Kate opened her mouth to reply _you’re goddamned right_ , except she was still in this awful fucking dumpster which _smelled_ and that became the unfortunate basis of how she introduced herself to Daredevil, which was by vomiting all over his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it all the way to end, congratulations! I plan to update this story twice a month! So mark your calendars!


	3. So Long As You Drink It Black (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daredevil and Hawkeye conflict as they find out more about the Sons of the Serpent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOU HAVEN'T UPDATED SINCE JULY WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL MAN"
> 
> STOP YELLING AT ME I'M ONLY FIVE FOOT TWO but it's because of work. They've been moving me around since the beginning of August and it's only now come to a halt. I can finally catch my breath. I've been so tired I can't find the energy to write. But now things are back to normal as of last week so now I can get back to this. 
> 
> Take my advice: don't get a job. Don't move out of your parents' until you're like, thirty. This shit is way too real you guys.
> 
> Don't worry though, I'm not giving up on this series. Actual Mama Duck Matt Murdock must have his day. 
> 
> Please forgive any grammar errors, I'll fix them tomorrow.

When Tony Stark bought out the MetLife Building on 200 Park Avenue, there had been a lot of grumbling, especially when he made it known that he wouldn't tear it down to restore the view of Grand Central Station. The Chatauri invasion had silenced much of that grumbling along with all the other changes that came along with renaming it  _Avengers Tower_ . If anyone thought that it was a bad idea after the reality of an alien invasion then they kept it to themselves.

It also had the side-effect of generating a fresh wave of criminal activity. Stark Industries had always been the target of corporate espionage but now the presence of the Avengers attracted a new kind of outlaw.

In the scandalous coffee pot known as Hell's Kitchen, a new kind of trouble brewed...

  **THEN**

“Duct tape.”

“Check.”

“Night vision goggles.”

“Check.”

“C4.”

“Check.”

“Rope.”

“Check.”

“Computer harddr-” Marvin paused in his checklist to stare across the way at Brandon as he balanced a pair of night vision goggles on the tip of his nose. Somewhere in the background the Sons of the Serpent continued their omnipresent chanting as they continued their bizarre rituals. They took over the main section of the warehouse while Marvin and his team were consigned to the loading docks while they outfitted the armored truck for a nighttime assault. This suited Marvin just fine, as being in the presence of those cast-off KKK members simply gave him the creeps, but as he stared deep into the dark glass of the goggles the chanting coated the scene with an air of absurdity. Somewhere behind him Chad facepalmed.

“Brandon?” Marvin's voice cracked on the second syllable. “What are you doing?”

Brandon opened his mouth and then shut it again. He took the goggles off and put them away. “Sorry.”

Marvin inhaled for the full ten seconds, just like they had taught him in anger management. He tried to remember what the counselor had said about conflict resolution and then gave up. “Jesus Christ, okay,  _look_ . A lot of people have fucked up making this run on Stark Tower. A lot! And I want to get paid which means I don't want us on that list! So for the love of God, can you take this seriously for five minu--”

Several things happened at once. One of the windows set up high near the ceiling exploded inwards, raining glass shared and bits of steel shrapnel onto their heads. Two heavy thuds followed as something hit the top of the armored truck. The chanting stopped and descended into shouting and panic in the other room. Marvin reached for his shotgun but caught the body dropped on him instead.

“Freeze!” Brandon shouted – once a cop, always a cop – then shrieked in pain as his skull cracked against the floor as their attacker. Marvin shoved the body off him, an unconscious 265-pound man that he recognized as Fred Graham, and jumped to his feet. A heavy booted foot kicked him in the stomach. He doubled over and fell to his knees.

“Look at me! Don't make any sudden moves!”

Marvin raised his head and found himself staring down the shaft of an arrow. Something in his brain noted the woman on the other end of it but it didn't seem important compared to the very real, very shiny arrowhead so close to his eye.

“Okay...” the owner of the weapon suddenly seemed unsure. “Now...put your hands behind your head!”

Marvin complied. He carefully avoided looking over her shoulder.

She swallowed. “Okay. Now –  _oof_ !” The arrowhead disappeared from Marvin's line of sight as Brandon and Chad tackled her to the ground. The bow and arrow scattered. Marvin scrambled up only to watch Brandon reel back once again, whimpering and clutching a bleeding nose. Jesus, the kid really was useless.

“Get off me!” The woman freed one leg and stomped on Chad's face. When he didn't let go she did it again, once, twice, three times, until there was an ugly crunch and then Chad started to cough and gag as the blood from his broken nose flowed back into his throat. But he didn't let go. He clutched her knee, enduring the kicks and began pushing her leg back, back, back--

Her scream was more rage than pain even as her calf wrenched to a right angle. She seized his hair with one hand and smashed his head against the concrete. Chad tried to dislodge her but only succeeded in allowing her to wrap her good leg around his throat. As he tugged at her ankle she dragged herself forward until she found her mislaid arrow. Chad let out a stifled shriek as she plunged it straight into his shoulder. A blue light appeared between the fletching and there was an electric hum that made him thrash from side to side before going still.

Marvin flattened himself against the side of the truck. The woman launched herself at him from the floor with another arrow in one hand and he didn't see the electricity sparking off it until it was far, far too late--

**NOW**

A red fist slammed into Number 2's jaw. He groaned and slid down the alley wall.

“I don't care how Hawkeye beat your strike team,” Daredevil said. “What are the Serpents doing in my city?”

Number 2 spat blood. “Fuck you.”

“Tell me,” Daredevil said. “Or I'll have my friend here vomit all over you.”

Number 2 hesitated. He glanced at his compatriots, all in some state of unconsciousness. Then he looked at Hawkeye using the tip of her bow to scratch the itch at the top of her splint. She was tinged faintly green and he had learned a long time ago to avoid a woman when that look got in her eye.

“I'll do it,” she warned. “I swear to God I will, you little creep.”

“You can't make me talk,” he said but the quiver in his voice gave him away. Daredevil seized him by the collar and dragged him up until they were nose to nose.

“I can't control her.” His breath washed over Number 2's face in a cool mint rush. “Even if I could I wouldn't. Pick one of us and confess. But I suggest you do it my way.”

Number 2 looked into those red eyes and swallowed. Hard.

Daredevil's cheek twitched. “Hawkeye, stick your finger down your throat.”

“Okay, I'll talk! Jesus!” Number 2 shrank against the grimy brick wall and stared down at the ground. “I – I don't even believe in this Serpent stuff – they're just paying for my mom's medical bills --”

Daredevil slapped him across the mouth. “ _Lie_ ,” he snarled. “Do it again and live to regret it. What are the Serpents doing in my city?”

Number 2's lips trembled. “Look, I – I don't know much, I'm low-level, I just pay my dues and do the jobs they give me. I don't know what they're looking for but – but I know that it's at Stark Tower, Avengers Tower, whatever it's called now. It was supposed to go down after midnight tonight but good luck with that. Hawkgirl took out the strike team we hired.”

Kate yanked her pinky finger out of her ear. “Hey! That's Hawkeye, asshole!”

Daredevil ignored her. He grabbed Number 2 by the chin and forced him to look up, into Daredevil's eyes. “What else do you know?”

“I – I know they're gonna do it anyway! The pros are out of commission but Eric's fed up – he told us to meet back at the docks and we would roll out and hit the Tower ourselves! I'm supposed to be back by now, if I don't show up they'll know something's wrong!”

“And you don't have a clue what they're going after?” Daredevil gave Number 2's head a hard shake. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It's true!” The pathetic wail made the Devil grind his molars. “I'm not lyin', not to you!”

“Jesus,” Kate muttered. Daredevil considered this for a moment before he nodded.

“I believe you.”

Number 2 almost dissolved into tears. “Oh, thank God, I thought you were gonna – _hurk_.” He rocked back and forth from the force of Daredevil's punch, pawing at his throat. Daredevil turned away. He seemed totally unconcerned about being attacked from behind.

“Hawkeye. I'm going after these people – try to stop them before they leave Hell's Kitchen.”

Kate stared. “What's with the singular? I'm going with you!”

“With a broken leg? Come on, Hawk.” Daredevil held up a conciliatory hand as she puffed up her chest. “I'm not trying to sound ungrateful. I might not have found out about this if it wasn't for you. But you're injured and I'm used to working alone. I need you to babysit these idiots until the police arrive. They can give you a ride to the hospital and your parents can pick you up. Then you'll be safe.”

She realized her mouth had fallen open in shock. “You're shitting me. After all this, you think I'm walking away?”

“I don't think you're _walking_ anywhere.” He shook his head. “Go home. Heal. Rest. Maybe in a year or two you can come back out here again.”

Kate was aware of incredible heat inside her mouth and behind her eyes but it was so surreal. She hadn't had time to process it yet – it was too sudden. Daredevil let her witness an interrogation just to throw her aside like _this_? “Bullshit! I don't need legs to shoot! Hey, you _need_ me--”

“I don't need help. I know what I'm doing...” he paused and the unspoken 'unlike _you_ ' lingered. “...so stay here. And read about it in The Bulletin tomorrow. Unless the Bugle gets the scoop.” He grabbed the corner drainpipe and shimmied up it. It felt like watching a nature documentary. Observing the predator in his natural urban habitat.

“Hey! _Hey!_ ” Kate waved her bow after him but he didn't turn around. In seconds he disappeared from sight, leaving her slack-jawed and looking foolish.

Kate shivered, suddenly freezing in her body armor. The pile of Serpent goons remained unmoved though she suspected they were awake and not moving due to fear after hearing two costumed idiots arguing over who got to arrest their bosses. Kate sniffed and hobbled back and forth a bit, testing her bad leg. It couldn't take any weight; dragging it around left it trembling violently; and it was painful enough to make her teeth break the skin of her lower lip as she forced herself to keep quiet.

There was no doubt about it. Daredevil was right. She was a liability.

The night sky didn't give her any stars to study. The light pollution was too much. It would have been nice to have a focal point – that was one of the things they taught in trauma recovery. Find a fixed point that doesn't have anything to do with you. Let it be your bedrock. She had chosen the night sky in a moment of whimsy but at times like this it came in handy.

So that was it. Only a month or two on this stupid job – meeting Spider-Man. Eli. Cass. Getting her body armor together. Learning to win _real fights_. All of it gone because of a broken leg? 'Come back in a year or two?'

Kate screamed, a long, sharp animal sound that felt like it ripped out of the core of her very being. It wasn't enough. She seized the dumpster she had hidden inside and rattled it with another furious shriek. That wasn't enough either, even if it made the Serpent goons flinch. She ignored the pain, ignored her shaking leg and dragged herself over Number 2, curled up in a ball and pressed against the side of the building like he was trying to meld with it. She grabbed him by the collar.

“You!”

“You're right,” he blurted out. “You are totally right Hawkgirl--”

“Hawkeye!”

“Hawkeye! Hawkeye, you're totally right Hawkeye, Daredevil is such a tool, you totally deserved to run out there with him and kick some ass!”

“You're damn right I deserve it!” Kate let go of his collar and seized his throat instead. “And you're going to help me!”

Number 2's eyes widened. They were blue and watery, shot with red blood vessels like he hadn't been sleeping much. She knew the feeling. “I – I am?”

Kate smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression. If Daredevil could see then he would have recognized it as being quite similar to his own. “Yeah. You're going to steal a car, buddy. And you're going to drive me to meet your Serpent pals and help me beat the shit out of them before that freak in a red gimp suit can.”

“But your leg is broken, how are you going to--”

“I don't have to share my plans with you!” Kate pointed out of the alley with her other hand. “Now go out there, find a car, and steal it! Or I swear I will shoot you right in the ass!”

Number 2 fell on his face. He mumbled something inadequate before he scurried out of the alley. Kate cast a baneful eye on his compatriots who were smart enough to stay still and pretend to be unconscious though she spotted several open eyes as they stared at one another in horror.

It would take a few minutes for Number 2 to find a car. Long enough for the police to arrive. She flexed her hands. Long enough for her to think about how much she was going to gloat when Daredevil finally dragged his ass to the scene of the crime only to find her there.

She bared her teeth at the memory of his condescending face. Oh, yeah. There would be so _much_ gloating.


	4. So Long As You Drink It Black (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawkeye breaks many rules in her pursuit of justice; the Sons of the Serpent have a no good very bad day; and Matt Murdock flips an armored truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It has been a month. This is inexcusable."
> 
> It is inexcusable, especially after I said I would update twice a month. However! I fully expect updates to get back on track now that Kate's Night Out is done! Everyone strap in for a super patriotic November!
> 
> Ah yes, one more thing. My tumblr is here for anyone who wants to watch me cry over Matt and if you want to pester me about fanfic things: http://maaaaaaaattmuuuuuuuurdooooooock.tumblr.com/
> 
> [Majel Barrett voice]And now, the conclusion.[/Majel Barrett voice]

One thing you could say for Hell's Kitchen: everyone in the neighborhood knew to hide indoors when armored trucks went zooming up Ninth Avenue. The denizens of Hell's Kitchen were smart. When they saw trouble headed their way they hunkered down and didn't move until the sun rose. Marvin had always liked that about the place.

Sporting a twitching left arm, a broken nose, and a black eye, he drove with a new set to his jaw. Fred rode in the seat next to him, grim faced and squeezing his left knee with his hand. Popping it back into the socket had been a bitch and a half but they hadn't had much choice.

The Sons of the Serpent had made it clear: get to the Tower or else. 

“Fred.” The familiar head inclined his way. “Check on the others. Make sure they're ready. We'll be there soon.”

Fred didn't make a verbal acknowledgment but he wasn't a talky guy. He limped to the back of the van where the walking wounded suited up and locked down their equipment. The portable hard drives went into a fancy briefcase; the C4 loads went on their backs, along with the duct tape and rope. No weapons outside of the explosives. The Serpents had been very specific about that. Marvin understood the rationale but still felt naked without a shotgun next to him.

He creaked to a stop as they hit a red traffic light. He'd heard sirens on their way over here; the Devil's work, he presumed. Probably rescuing his little girlfriend. Just the thought of meeting him made Marvin's hands shake with something that had nothing to do with the electric shocks he'd received earlier that night. 

Someone had once told him that he had a better chance of winning the Powerball than meeting Daredevil one night. That same someone was still in the hospital to treat severe injuries to his lumbar spine. Marvin had told the staff that his associate had been in a car accident; one of them had raised an eyebrow at him but hadn't asked if the car had been red.

Now he waited, staring into the red eye of the stoplight. He didn't want to draw any possible attention by running it.  _ Yes officers, just another heavily armored vehicle making its way downtown, taking a straight line out of Hell's Kitchen. Nothing to see here. _

Local gossip held that the Devil didn't strike beyond his territory. Marvin prayed that was true. The locals disputed just how far the Kitchen extended but Daredevil had never been reported past 57 th Street, which hopefully meant he ascribed to the conservative boundaries. Marvin inhaled a shaky breath and squeezed his hands into fists. 

Behind him was the rise and ebb of quiet conversation. Someone seated themselves next to him with a huff and puff. It wasn't quiet, dependable Fred. It was quiet, violent Chad, who Marvin had a strict policy about keeping pointed at other people.

“Any sign of him?”

Marvin shook his head, a short sharp jerk. “Nope.” 

“You think this'll work?”

“Only thing I can be sure of, man. We'll take a right on 58th and hit Park Avenue from there. Pray he doesn't follow us.”

Chad set his head back on the rest. “Christ.”

“Yeah.”

“You think Stark knows we're coming?”

“I think five teams tried this before us and fucked up. I also think Hawkgirl fucked us. If the Serpents didn't know where my mom lived I'd bail right now.”

The light changed. Marvin stepped on the accelerator, crept out, eyes flickering from side to side. The Devil liked his rooftop highway. The entire city knew he'd attacked Fisk's getaway truck from above. There would be some kind of warning in a suit as red as that.

They passed 52 nd , 53 rd , 54 th . Marvin's chest felt tight. It was difficult to breathe. Chad hunkered down in his seat, expecting the red baton to crash through the windshield. 55 th . He could see the edge of Hell's Kitchen only two more intersections away. They were almost there. 

When they hit 56 th Marvin pressed down with his foot and they zoomed off. They were almost home-free and then he could fucking breathe easy again and all they'd have to worry about was breaking into one of the most secure buildings in the world.

When it came right down to it, he just about expected the crash. It was too good to be true that they might get away. He saw the headlights in the corner of his eye but by then it was too late. The green sedan slammed into the driver's side, crushing in his door and shattering the window, spraying glass over him. He yelled, and twisted the steering wheel, bringing them into a sharp curve as Chad swore and rattled in his seat. 

“Shit! It's the Devil! It's the fucking Daredevil!”

The van halted. Marvin gasped for air; the seat belt dug into his neck. He craned his neck around to look into the sedan and blinked. 

There was no one in it.

“What the hell,” he muttered. Chad pushed him back in his seat and gaped at the car.

“Shit. Someone rigged it to hit us. What the--”

“I don't know. Let's keep going and--”

And then something caught his eye.

“Oh, no,” Marvin said. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What? What is it?”

“That, idiot! Look at that!” Marvin pointed at the corner building. Kneeling on the roof edge was a familiar purple shape, black hair blowing in the wind. 

She had an arrow pointed at them.

Marvin didn't waste time swearing or planning out loud. He put the van in reverse and slammed the accelerator, ignoring the angry yells from the back. They could deal with the goddamn inertia. He didn't care. They had to get the hell out of here,  _ now _ . Freedom was only a few streets away and he would be goddamned if he didn't make it.

Hawkgirl's arrow flew from her hands. He straightened the van and headed north, half expecting his dashboard to explode into flames. No time to worry about her -- the streets blurred around them as they picked up speed without consequence yes, yes, she had missed! They were going to make it out of Hell's Kitchen and Daredevil may shake his fist but there wasn't a damn thing he could do because he was a coward who refused to leave his territory to face his enemies and--

He felt the snap underneath them. It was only for a second or maybe half a second. But it stretched on and on, horribly slow as the van's tires screeched and smoked from running in one place, as Chad stared at him with horror in his eyes, as the street sign for 58 th leered in Marvin's field of vision. Marvin realized that Hawkgirl hadn't been aiming at them at all.

That was when the van flipped.

It wasn't a smooth end of end flip that the superhero flicks showed in the cinema. They fell onto their side and then rolled. Marvin's teeth rattled in his head as his body twisted this way and that, battered by the brutal physics, head snapping side to side at the neck. An awful, hideous crunch jarred his hearing and then everything went still.

Something rained on the belly of the van. It went skittering down the windshield and he watched as it glowed, creating an orange line down his vision. Sparks. Shit. They must have hit a light pole.

He braced his hands against the ceiling to get his bearings. Jesus. They really were upside down. Then he pawed at the seat belt. It fought him for a moment before it spat out the metal tongue. It had been all that was between him and gravity. He landed painfully on one shoulder before coming to rest flat on his back.

Crawling around the upside down van did little to help his vertigo. While the rest of his team groaned and whimpered Marvin found the back doors and opened them. He lurched out, nearly collapsed, got his feet under him. He clung to the van's shell for support. 

Something tapped his shoulder. 

“Holy shit, Chad. Five seconds, man.”

Something tapped his shoulder again.

“Stop it dude, I'm seriously about to puke.”

A huff of air, like someone was trying to keep himself from laughing. Marvin felt his frayed temper splitting apart. Chad tapped his shoulder again.

“Jesus Christ Chad, _what?!_ ”

“Huh?”

Marvin paused and looked down just a little. Chad peered up at him from the back door. There was a cut on his forehead. It was bleeding into his eyes and everything.

Like the first guy to die in a horror movie, Marvin swiveled his head until he found what he was looking for: the Devil crouched on the ticking belly of the crushed beast, holding a long red stick in one hand. 

That was why no one had seen him, Marvin realized. Daredevil had been clinging to the underside of the van the entire time.

Now he was  _ smiling.  _

Marvin may have peed himself. Just a little. 

“You,” he stuttered, “you, you, you, you, you, you--”

“Me,” Daredevil agreed. And then Marvin found out just how much _harder_ the Devil punched.

* * *

Getting down from the corner of 56 th was a bitch with a splinted leg but Kate got by with a controlled slide down the fire escape. Daredevil was nearly finished with mop up by the time she hobbled to the wreck. Body armor wasn't much use if your neck was exposed, it turned out, and many of the team members were left gagging and choking around their bruised throats until Daredevil saw fit to dispatch them with two joined hands to the base of the skull.

“Hang on,” he said as she approached. One red elbow crushed the jaw of a guy with an undercut. She covered her mouth at the sound of a jaw breaking. Daredevil slammed a knee into his victim's solar plexus and broke his nose. The guy let out a muffled squeal and tried to run but the Devil grabbed his shoulders and slammed his head against the bumper. The guy went down without another sound.

He dusted off his hands, like giving a stranger a concussion was trivial, and then turned to face her. “I told you to go to the hospital.”

Kate realized she hadn't dropped her hand from her face. She slapped it down hard against her leg. “Yeah, well, I didn't see you with a better plan.”

“I did have one.” Then his lips quirked. “But yours was more fun.”

Kate stared at him warily. He had to be angrier then he let on. Clint would lose his shit if she pulled a stunt like this with him.

But Daredevil didn't seem interested in chewing her out. He stepped over the fallen bodies and crab-walked his way into the van. She sucked in a breath and drew closer, poking her head in after him. “See anything?”

“It's a bit dark.”

“I've got a flashlight--”

“Don't worry about it. I think this is what we want.”

She heard a clunking sound. He grunted and in the darkness his form shifted as he twisted this way and that to pull something free from the mess. “Need help?”

“I've -- almost --”

There was a rattle and then he flew back, barely avoiding hitting her. With a heavy sigh he set a silver and black briefcase next to her feet.

“There we are.”

“What – what is it?”

“I don't know,” he replied. “And frankly I don't care at the moment. I'm tired. And you need a hospital.”

“Do we -- do we call 911?”

“The lady in the apartment two blocks back already has. They're on the way.” He fetched up against the side of the van and sighed. “Unless there's someone else you would like to call.”

Kate scoffed and folded her arms. “Bullshit! I'm not calling any Avengers down here!”

He smirked and shrugged. “Well, then.”

“Yeah, sure. Like you're not happy to not have them crawling around. Clint told me all about you, you know.”

Daredevil's mouth did a twisty thing. It was good to see. Kate tossed her head. “I know all about you and your creepiness. So don't get any ideas with me.”

“Those stories might be exaggerated.”

“Duh. Clint is a lying liar who lies.” She pointed a finger at him. “But if you admit that I totally won this one then I won't tell them I saw you down here. And if I don't tell them I saw you down here then they won't come around asking you questions and trying to beat you up.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

Daredevil straightened up and folded his arms. Crap. Now he looked like Kate's dad when he remembered he was supposed to be a real parent. “You're foolhardy,” he said. “And you're pig-headed. You don't listen to orders, even when they're in your best interest, you destroyed private property even when there were better ways to get what you wanted, you must have intimidated some poor sap into helping you set up this trap, you almost got these people killed, and if you had been less smart and more brave then you could have died yourself! So no, you didn't _win_! You're lucky that I was there!”

She paused. “But you do think I'm smart?”

Daredevil's mouth opened and shut like a fish before he made a muffled sobbing noise and buried his face in his hands. Kate patted him on the shoulder. “It's okay, Big Guy. Just leave me the suitcase and I'll get it to Tony.”

She could hear sirens in the distance. Daredevil looked ready to check the hell out already. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Take your crap and get out of my town!”

Kate waved good bye as he bolted. “See you later! _And I totally won this one_!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the delightful prompt and amazing discussion at the Daredevil kinkmeme: https://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/2760.html?thread=5669064#cmt5669064


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